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Annabel gazed up at him wide-eyed as his face descended toward hers and then blurted, " 'Tis a fine Wednesday morning, is it not?"
"Aye," he agreed, his mouth aiming for hers. She was quite sure he would have kissed her had she not turned her head away.
When his lips instead sought her neck and began to nibble there, doing the oddest things to her equilibrium, Annabel clasped his upper arms to keep her balance and said desperately, "Aye, a fine Wednesday morning." When he still didn't seem to grasp the significance of that, but allowed his lips to trail down to her collarbone, she added desperately, "I wonder why the church deems Wednesdays an unsuitable day for couples to indulge in the bedding?"
Ross stiffened at her words, and stood completely still for a moment, but then he straightened slowly. His expression was not happy as he eyed her. "It does, doesn't it?"
Annabel nodded apologetically and was almost sorry she had mentioned it to him. Part of her regretted having to remind him and prevent his gaining what he wished. However, another part was rather relieved. While she appreciated his consideration in getting her sotted for the consummation of their marriage so she hadn't had to suffer through it . . . well, really, since she couldn't recall it, she was as ignorant and nervous of the act as she had been on her wedding night. And it was her opinion that it was always better to get unpleasant matters done and out of the way.
Darn Father Gerder for harping on the matter of marital relations and when they were and weren't acceptable, Annabel thought with irritation. Had he not done that, in five minutes or so she would probably be crawling out of bed a wiser woman, because surely it didn't take long?
Truthfully, Annabel had no idea why the priest had bothered lecturing on it to a bunch of nuns, but then there were many things he'd lectured on that had not seemed relevant for the inhabitants of an abbey. The man just seemed to get in these moods where he would rant and rave about the evils of the world. It was usually about such things as the marital bed and sins of the flesh. Really, the man was as obsessed with the subject as the abbess.
Sighing, Ross straightened and released her. He then gave her a solemn nod and turned to leave the room without another word.
Annabel stared at the closed door and bit her lip. She knew she had done the right thing. The church had outlawed the bedding on Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Still, she felt like she had failed her husband somehow. Annabel suspected that was a sensation she should get used to. She had no doubt at all that she was going to disappoint him often as she proved how ignorant and untrained a bride he had gained himself.
Grimacing, Annabel pushed that thought away and glanced around the room until she spotted her gown lying over a nearby chair where Seonag had apparently laid it after helping her to undress. Walking over, she picked it up and immediately grimaced at the stench of it. Annabel had worn it for four days straight, which was not unusual, but three of those days had been during the journey here and it now smelled of horse, grass and sweat. Funny how she hadn't noticed before bathing, and it did seem a shame to pull that on after having a bath.
Turning, Annabel considered the gowns Seonag had left scattered around the chest. They had been the rejects, set aside because of some fault or other, but there might be one in good-enough shape to wear, or at least to make it preferable to her sullied gown.
After a quick examination, Annabel settled on a pale pink gown with a small stain on the decolletage. The stain was really quite small, barely noticeable she was sure, so she donned the dress and then peered down at herself. It seemed Seonag had been wrong; she and Ross's mother were not exactly of a size after all. At least not in the bustline. The rest of the gown fit perfectly, but Lady MacKay definitely had not been quite as well endowed as she.
Annabel pushed at her breasts, trying to tuck them inside the gown as much as possible, but they still appeared to be trying to crawl out. Sighing, she dug through the chest until she found a bit of fine white cloth. She placed that in the neckline to make it more decent, and then thinking she had done the best she could, she headed for the door, intending to go in search of Seonag. However, she had just reached for the door when a clatter and shriek from the window behind her made her pause.
Frowning, she turned and moved back across the room. There were shutters that were presently wide open. She supposed Ross had opened them on rising that morning to allow light in to help him dress. That or they had been open all night. Whatever the case, they were wide open now and Annabel leaned out the window to peer down into the bailey. At first, she couldn't tell what had happened, but then she saw a small group of people gathered around an overturned wagon. When one of the people shifted, she caught a glimpse of a man on the ground and blood and it was enough to have her straightening and rushing for the door.
"Oh, m'lady, I was just coming to--" Seonag began when Annabel passed her as she rushed down the stairs from the upper floor. If the maid finished what she was saying, Annabel didn't hear it. She hadn't even slowed for the woman, but flew past to race down the rest of the stairs, across the busy great hall, and out into the bailey on feet that seemed almost winged, she was moving so swiftly.
Annabel had to pause on the stairs once she pushed through the doors and out into the bailey so that she could orient herself, but it was the briefest of pauses before she spotted the growing crowd around the overturned wagon and hurried that way. Murmuring apologies and "Excuse mes," she made her way through the crowd to the center and the injured man, and immediately dropped to kneel beside him, her eyes taking in the situation.
"What happened?" Annabel asked as she shifted her attention and hands to the man's bloodied leg and began to feel along its length, checking for broken bones. Silence met her question and Annabel glanced up with a frown to see that everyone, including the man she knelt over was staring at her with wide-eyed amazement and uncertainty.
"Well answer yer lady, ye dolts!"
Recognizing Seonag's voice, Annabel glanced over her shoulder to see that the maid had followed her out of the keep and now stood at her back. She offered the servant a grateful smile and turned back to the injured man as several people began to speak at once in a confusing cacophony of voices.
"One at a time," Seonag barked as Annabel ran her hands down the man's leg again. She hadn't felt anything that suggested a break, but it was best to be sure before moving him too much.
"That damned dog startled my horse. The beast reared and took off and his halter snapped, but not before my cart overturned, throwing myself and my goods to the ground," the injured man explained through gritted teeth. His accent was English rather than Scottish and had Annabel not already guessed he was a visiting merchant, his mention of goods would have. However, she had no idea what he meant by "that damned dog," but that didn't matter at the moment anyway.
"I need a knife," she announced, glancing around at the faces in the crowd.
"What do ye need a knife for? You don't need a knife," the injured man assured her, his voice suddenly several octaves higher.
"Here. Will me sgian dubh do, m'lady?"
"Thank you." Annabel smiled absently at the man who offered her a small knife and then turned back to the merchant, who was staring wide-eyed at the small sharp blade.
"What the devil do you think you'll be doing with that?" he asked with alarm.
"Hush. I shall not hurt you," Annabel said reassuringly and quickly slit a line up the length of his braies from the bottom to several inches above the wound on his thigh just above his knee. The action sent an immediate rush of whispers through the crowd, but Annabel ignored it and tugged the cloth aside to get a better look at his wound.
"You've ruined my drawers!" the tradesman squawked with dismay.
"Yer drawers were ruined by the accident," Seonag pointed out dryly. "If ye were a Scot and wearing a plaid, her ladyship would no' ha'e had to cut that away."
There were several murmurs of agreement to that, but Annabel ignored them all as she examined his wound. She had no idea
what he'd cut his leg on. It was deep, straight and clean, almost like a sword wound. Not what she would expect from an accident involving an overturned wagon, and then she noted the tip of a bloody blade sticking out under his other leg and she reached over to tug it free. She examined the blood on the blade and then glanced at him in question.
"I was eating an apple," he admitted reluctantly. "I had the blade in my hand. Must have cut myself when I went ass over heel off the wagon. Begging your pardon," he added quickly as he realized what he'd said.
Annabel's lips twitched with amusement at his apology. She didn't hold his words against him. The man was no doubt in shock. He was also losing a lot of blood, she noted, and was about to rip a strip off the hem of the gown she was wearing to bind it up, but then recalled the cloth at her throat, and tugged that off instead to wrap around his leg.
The merchant sucked in a sharp breath as she tightened the makeshift bandage and Annabel glanced up to offer him an apologetic smile, only to pause when she saw that his wide eyes were fixed on her bosom. Glancing down at the expanse of creamy flesh trying to work its way out of the gown, Annabel sighed and straightened.
"He shall have to be brought into the keep. I need to sew him up," she announced.
Seonag nodded and opened her mouth, no doubt to order a couple of men to cart him inside, but she didn't have to. Several men were already lifting the fellow off the ground. More men than were really necessary, truth be told . . . and every one of them seemed to be staring at Annabel's bosom rather than the man they were lifting.
"I'm thinkin' we'll be havin' to let out the bosom o' Lady Magaidh's gowns," Seonag commented, falling into step next to Annabel as she led the way to the keep doors.
"Aye," she agreed quietly, resisting the urge to try to push her breasts back down again. It would just draw more attention to them. Besides, it didn't really do much anyway. They just bounced back up. Driving that issue from her mind for now, she said, "I'll need a needle and thread."
